


Meeting a Friend

by KnightlyHonors



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Derse (Homestuck), M/M, Original Character(s), POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 09:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16060187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightlyHonors/pseuds/KnightlyHonors
Summary: Zach, a human dreamer, floats quietly through Derse to meet up with his friend - a troll named Sintin.  This is just a sample of my new fan-adventure!





	Meeting a Friend

The bustling, violet city is chattering underneath your feet as you dangle in mid-air like a sleeping angel. The little people weave in and out of each other's way like a pit of snakes. As if, if they stopped moving, the world would fall in on itself and they would be no more. Lines curled in knots, drawn to the scent of food; which they ravaged down with the ferocity of savage beasts. Teeth gnashing as drool dripped down their jaws. And, as if it never happened, they duck their heads down and slither away into the crowd. The wind pulls you onward, taking your hand as you soar gently past the jungle beneath you. Mist hugs your face as you pass through lilac clouds; the colors around you melt together from the view behind your glasses. You raise your arm and let the push fabric of your pajamas wipe away pools of rainbow from the plastic surface. The world puts itself back together and you see a tower drawing closer. And eager face lights up from the window. He extends and arm to wave good greetings to you.

You land on the windowsill, perching yourself like a dove. Your friend wraps his arms around you in a warm embrace; your nose finds itself nestled in a nest of his thick, black hair - the scent of bedsheets roll off each curl. His arms untangle from around your neck. Warmth fills your cheeks as the two of you share a tender kiss. The two of you separate from each other and entwine your fingers together. Your friend asks where you've been - you begin to weave the tale of a morning spent in deep on the web, arguing with strangers over nothing. A bubbling joy pulses through your body each time your friend laughs. At the end of your tale, his eyes widen in a shock of remembrance. His hand leaves yours - a brief cold slips through your fingers.

Your friend glares to a desk covered in tin cans - crushed -, emptied chip bags, crumpled pieces of paper, and inkless pens. He lifts a small, gray notebook from under the debris and dust the crumbs off the cover - which was branded with a cerulean symbol and clouds of spiraled ink that glistened in the light. Your friend lets the pages fall as he searched for what he is looking for. He takes a pen from the desk and presses it down to the paper. A long, agitated growl escapes his lips as he tosses the pen across the room. You chuckle. He sets his notebook back down and began rustling around the mountain of trash trying to find a pen full of ink. Chip bags became pieces of paper as frantic scribbling ensues. His cheeks puff out as he throws pen after pen across the room. He finally finds a pen with some life left in it. He rushes back to his notebook, and writes excitedly. You ask him what he is doing. He says that he has to log what he does through the day, but he usually forgets when you’re with him. You feel slightly flattered, but you’re not quite satisfied with his answer, so he explains that due to his narcolepsy and short-term memory that he has to keep notes to himself in his journal. But that’s your dream journal, you inquire. He shrugs and writes it off as being the journal he looks in the most.

He flips to an empty page and floats to the window. A glossy look coast itself over his eyes as he looks to the sky, and without looking at his paper, he begins to draw. You watch, curious. You find yourself sitting on your friend’s “bed” - being careful not to fall back into the liquid-like surface. Glancing at the notebook, you see the beginnings of an eldritch horror being etched onto the page in blue ink, but still, your friend doesn’t seem to notice what his hands are creating. You lean over yourself, placing your head in your hands. He tends not to come out of these states for a while, so it’s better for you to just get comfortable. Slowly, you glasses begin to fall down the bridge of your nose. You push them back in place, but they just begin sliding once more. You take them off and clip them on the front of your pajama shirt. You begin to feel unnerved from not having the large, rose-pink ovals of plastic hovering right in front of your eyes; anxieties fill your mind and you begin wondering if you look alright without them.

Your friend’s eyes start to twinkle once more. You pull your glasses up to your eyes again. The front of the notebook is folded back so only the page just used is visible. You ask what message he received today. He says that They told him to prepare for the “game.” You nod your head in understanding. You ask him to show you his drawing. The notebook turns, revealing a monstrous beast with a form that appears so unnatural that it was shapeless even on a piece of paper. Tendrils coiled out of every part of the creature’s body mass and wrapped around each other in a war without end. A giant, burning eye pierces your vision. You ask your friend to close his notebook.

He sets it back on his desk. You float off the “bed” and kiss him on the cheek. You tell him that you better get going. He says that he understands and that he’ll see you soon. You dip out the window. You float down to the ground and weave through the lines of people. Their white eyes stare through you wonder if they can even process thought yet. You know not all the people in the city have their programming yet, so it’s a real possibility. You glide back to up to the sky, once more through the clouds - which are turning a much more yellow color. You dive in and out of the misty mass of water. Fluff, gathering in your hands - that you let fall to the ground. You wonder what poor soul got the mini rain down upon them. Another tower - your tower - approaches you and you swerve yourself through the top window. You are greeted by your bedroom, all violet and dressed up in items fit for a prince. You lift the blankets from your bed and snuggle into the comfortable warmth of a thick quilt and ten pillows. Your eyelids grow heavier.

You wake up.


End file.
